


homeward bound

by shmabs



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Biting, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Slice of Life, set sometime before infinity war bc fuck that noise, very slight undertones but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 18:53:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shmabs/pseuds/shmabs
Summary: “Hey Buck.”“Hmmmph,” Bucky says blearily, shoving his face into the crook of Steve’s neck and mouthing at his collarbone sloppily. Steve had been gone for almost a whole week this time, but Bucky is tired and mostly just wants to lie down next to Steve and sleep, actually sleep.





	homeward bound

**Author's Note:**

> for shilpi - thanks for rewatching all these garbage movies w me and supporting these gross soft boys, you're a real one

 

“Hey Buck.”

 

“Hmmmph,” Bucky says blearily, shoving his face into the crook of Steve’s neck and mouthing at his collarbone sloppily. Steve had been gone for almost a whole week this time, but Bucky is tired and mostly just wants to lie down next to Steve and sleep, actually sleep.

 

“You miss me?”

 

“ _Hmmmph_.”

 

“I think that’s a yes,” Steve says, and Bucky can hear the laughter in his voice. Sometimes, when Steve gets back from missions, he doesn’t say anything at all, will undress quietly and slip in the shower, out again just a few minutes later. On those nights, Steve will slide under the covers next to Bucky and turn on his side, shoulders hunched up around his ears and back curved to protect his center of mass. Bucky will sprawl on his back and breathe deep and try his best to sleep or, at the very least, be quiet and calm enough that eventually Steve will turn toward him, tangle their legs together and curl his big body around Bucky’s.

 

But this isn’t one those nights. Steve is handsy, palms roaming over Bucky’s bare shoulders and trailing down the slope of his spine and then towards his front, cresting over his hip bones, Steve’s fingertips just barely pushing under the elastic of his briefs.

 

“‘m too tired to fuck,” Bucky says, trying not to sound like a petulant child and probably failing. Steve had said that this mission would be quick, just a couple hours, at most a day and a half. And now here he is, six days and a handful of hours later, and as much as Bucky wants to burrow into Steve and forget everything else, he hasn’t really slept in about five days, and he wants to take his time with Steve, wind him up and then take him down hard, the way Steve likes.

 

“Okay,” Steve says, fingers stroking back up along Bucky’s lower belly, curling around his sides. “Whatever you want, Bucky.”

 

Bucky’s tempted, for a moment, to start a fight with Steve. To call him on his bullshit, to point out that all he’s asked of Steve since coming out of cryo was for him to stop fighting other people’s battles. He wants to scream and throw a lamp or something, just to scratch the restless, worried itch that’s been plaguing him since Steve’s comm stopped transmitting a day-and-a-half into the stupid mission. But then he thinks about Shuri, who told him he needed to stop living in the Stone Age and get some goddamn light in his little place instead of moping around in the dark all the time. She’d be pretty pissed if he broke that lamp.

 

And Bucky knows if he looks at Steve, really looks at him, he’ll see the lines of exhaustion in his broad shoulders, his big hands, the sweet arch of his neck. Bucky doesn’t like the idea of causing Steve any more pain. He figures he’s already done enough for several lifetimes.

 

So he closes his eyes and bares his teeth in a grimace before sinking them into the side of Steve’s neck, hard enough to bruise. Steve gasps, and Bucky can feel his knees buckle a little, Steve’s big hands clenching tight around his waist. Bucky stays like that for a few more seconds, until Steve’s breath gets ragged and thin with desire, and then he eases off, going over the indents of his teeth with soft little licks. Steve’s eyes are huge and dilated and his chest is heaving with rapid breaths and Bucky feels the last little bit of resentment and fear that he’d been holding in his belly dissipate.

 

“I missed you,” he says, and tries to smirk, tries not to let Steve see just how much.

 

“I missed you too, Buck. I always do.”

 

When they first started doing this, decades ago, Steve was a hundred pounds soaking wet and Bucky was whole; Steve had to sleep in a pair of long underwear and at least a sweater or two every day of the year except for the hottest nights of summer and Bucky preferred the cold bite of winter. Now, Steve runs hot, his big body giving off plenty of heat for the both of them, even on the nights when Bucky has nightmares of nothing but endless, apathetic cold.

 

Bucky tilts his head to the side, eyeing the arch of Steve’s neck, the bruises he’s just pressed into skin that will fade soon, the line of Steve’s jaw, his full bottom lip, the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Bucky stares at Steve, all the beautiful little bits of him, and he nods once, then lifts up on his toes and presses a soft kiss to Steve’s mouth.

 

“Come to bed, Stevie.”

 

And Steve, the most bone-headed, obstinate, stubborn motherfucker that Bucky has ever crossed paths with, smiles a soft, sweet smile, and grabs Bucky’s hand, and follows.

 


End file.
